A Continuing Case of Wanderlust

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Beer Brat(wurst)

Okay, so, today.Cross-country on that awful course again, but not the same awful course as all the other times it’s been awful. The evil you DO know versus the one you don’t– however, it’s all very familiar since it’s repeated. Over and over and over. Every time the same but different and of COURSE it wasn’t what it should have been, but I expected that.

We did succeed, but only half in reality, but two-thirds if you count the kindness. I do, but it’s not the same as the actual competition. I did and didn’t expect the race to be what it was, and I’m having trouble not being disappointed in myself for the false hope or the false loss, because I don’t know which it is anymore. It doesn’t make sense. None of this does.

The rest of the day was the kind of summer that I don’t always understand the point of. Sweltering heat, shade, poison ivy, people, supposed relaxation, and the overwhelming smell of booze, combined with the sweat of hundreds-maybe-thousands of people standing outside in a field I associate with another time. Bad music playing, but the majority of the crowd wasn’t there for the bands. I sat with my phone, talking to people that I don’t talk to often enough, if talking and texting is the same. Interesting conversations, but nothing to keep me occupied like being elsewhere, perhaps.

It ended with a legend, but the throng of sweaty bodies impaired the vision, and the sound burst against my chest, deep and suffocating. We left too soon, hearing the snatches of that particular well-known song on the stale air as we left. Dust was everywhere as the cars left behind this day, and the songs of the slowly-being-forgotten band, and I thought to myself that it was rather ironic.

Returned home to emptiness, because once again the house is as it was before I left, with a few more books, perhaps a bit more knowledge added in. The small piece of paper was the only evidence of the eyes of a stranger appraising my home.

Chilly water with poor pressure rinsed off the stink of the day, and then I drove to Colin’s for some conversation and a smoothie. The time passed too quickly, though as always the promise to return lingers, sometimes spoken out loud but understood nonetheless.

I am home again, sleepy, and I am not making sense of my own words. Neither are you, I suppose, though I hope you got the meaning the events that I am too lazy to discuss or analyze. Life is busy again, and I have many things that need to be accomplished soon.